


Supernatural Hunters in 221B

by VioletBarnes



Series: Jack Harkniss' Granddaughter through John Watson series [2]
Category: Sherlock (TV), Supernatural
Genre: "What if..", Also with Supernatural, M/M, Sherlock has two daughters, Sort of Crossover, a sedative but other drugs mentioned, and orphans and former hunters - Freeform, but they are emotionally hurt, explained better in story, kidnapping of two children, mentioned non-consensual drugging of a child, not starting out but will for most of this story - Freeform, they are 7 and 4, they aren't hurt though - Freeform, with a sort of crossover with another of my stories
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-12-12
Updated: 2018-06-24
Packaged: 2019-02-12 08:43:17
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 4
Words: 5,987
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12955542
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/VioletBarnes/pseuds/VioletBarnes
Summary: What if Sherlock Holmes were to adopt two young girls who were orphaned during a case pre-canon? What would change? Also crossed with my story that is the first in this series, "Jack Harkness' Granddaughter." Minor canon divergence until the Pool then ignores canon.





	1. Pre-canon to The Study in Pink, part 1 of 2 (1/2)

**Author's Note:**

> Please comment and kudo!! They let me know what y'all think! Please!!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sherlock meets and adopts two little girls, aged 7 and 4.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please! I need a beta! As you can tell, unbeta'd un-brit-picked, and not heavily edited. Comments and kudos make my day!! Transcript lines and occasional action descriptions from Ariane DeVere on LiveJournal.

"I need your help." These were not unusual words for Sherlock Holmes to hear. After all he did solves crimes and people were often asking for his help. No, what was unusual this time for Sherlock as he paused in his pacing of his Montaigue flat was that the voice was of a young girl.

"I need help getting rid of 4 dead bodies. Unless you wish London to panic upon learning that werewolves do exist?" She said, standing in the doorway, waiting for the great detective to reply.

Sherlock squinted his eyes at her then replied, "I shall take your case." He grabbed his Belstaff and swept out of the flat, following the little girl to the 4 bodies. She led him to an alleyway in an off the beaten path in a section of London few dared tread except the homeless and those looking for a fix. As such Sherlock knew this area well. Once there, Serlick was able to ascertain minute differences in 2 of the bodies which told him they were not entirely human. As had Sherlock investigated the bodies, the little girl lugged out of hiding a duffle bag out of which she pulled salt, petrol, and matches.

Together they managed to prepare a pyre and to ready the bodies for burning. She struck the match and made sure to light everything so that it would all burn evenly. Once the fire was burning nicely, she turned to Sherlock, stuck out her hand in greeting and said, "My name's Elisabeth. I'm 7, today's my birthday and so far except for meeting you, this has been the worst birthday ever. My sister and I are now orphans, may we stay with you?"

Sherlock agreed, and Elisabeth informed him that they had to stop by the motel to pick up her sister, who would be staying with them. After they bodies and pyre had burned to ashes around dawn, they made sure to leave no trace that they had been there, and went to go back to the flat with both girls and the second duffle bag. Once there, Elisabeth settled Rosie on her side of the couch for the night and sat on the other side. Sherlock sat on his chair next to the couch and asked if Elisabeth if she would like to be adopted with her sister by Sherlock and they could live with him.

"That could work, but you will need a new flat. This one is not large enough for all three of us. You said your brother could hurry things along with the adoption?" Elisabeth asked.

"Obviously." Sherlock said, dismissing things with a wave of his hand. For the next 6 months, they moved to 221B Baker Street, the adoption paperwork went through, and Mycroft showed up for a visit to inform Sherlock that for this to work they would need to get flatmate. Preferably, someone human enough to help with basic needs. Sherlock agreed after a moment's deliberation. Elisabeth said that Sherlock should try and date the flatmate if they weren't boring. They argued but eventually Sherlock gave in and agreed.

All of which leads me to now, early January with Sherlock in the lab peering at something case related. "Bit different from my day." John Watson said limping in cane in hand, Mike Stamford who had led him to come to this lab at St. Bart's, replied, "Oh, you've no idea!"

"Mike, can I borrow your phone? There's no signal on mine." Sherlock asked, glancing up at his visitors.

"And what's wrong with the landline?" Mike asked.

"I prefer to text." Sherlock replied.

"Sorry, it's in my coat." Mike said.

"Er, here. Use mine." John offered, after fishing it out of his left hand pocket.

"Oh. Thank you." Sherlock said, standing up to borrow the phone.

As Sherlock stood up, Mike said, "This is an old friend of mine, John Watson."

Sherlock took the phone, opened it to text, and asked, "Afghanistan or Iraq?"

Looking confused for a moment, John asked, "Sorry?"

"Which was it, Afghanistan or Iraq?" Sherlock asked, turning his head to look at John.

Looking at Mike for his reaction, John looked down then sighed and looked back at Sherlock just as Molly walked in. "Afghanistan. Sorry, how did you know..."

"Ah, Molly! Coffee, thank you." Sherlock interrupted him to exclaim, hand John back his phone, and to take the coffee from Molly. "What happened to the lipstick?"

"It wasn't working for me." Molly said, bashfully before smiling up at Sherlock, as John put his phone back in his pocket.

"Really? I thought it was a big improvement. Your mouth's too small now." Sherlock said taking a sip of coffee, as the smile fell off Molly's face.

"Okay." She replied, then scurried out the lab door.

"How do you feel about the violin?" Sherlock asked as he walked back to his previous experiment.

John looked at Mike for his reaction then back at Sherlock before asking, "I'm sorry, what?"

"I play the violin when I'm thinking. Sometimes, I don't talk for days on end. Would that bother you? Potential flatmates should know the worst about each other." Sherlock replied, and smiled his 'polite smile'.

"Are you- you told him about me?" John asked Mike.

"Not a word." Mike swore.

"Then who said anything about flatmates?" John asked.

"I did. I told Mike this morning that I must be a difficult man to find a flatmate for. Now here he is, just after lunch, with old friend clearly just home from military service in Afghanistan. Wasn't that difficult a leap." Sherlock replied, putting on his coat and scarf, and turning around to look at John once again.

"How did you know about Afghanistan?" John asked, looking a little hurt and shuffling his feet a little as he looked down than back up at Sherlock.

Ignoring the question, Sherlock said, "Got my eye on a nice little place in central London. Together we ought to be able to afford it. We'll meet there tomorrow evening, 7:00. Sorry, got to dash. I think I left my riding crop in the mortuary." as he picked up his phone then walked toward John and stopped in front of him for a moment before brushing by him and walking to the lab door.

"Is that it?" John asked as he turned to watch Sherlock started to leave.

"Is that what?" Sherlock asked as he stopped and turned and walked back to John.

"We've only just met and we're going to go look at a flat?" John asked.

"Problem?" Sherlock asked.

"We don't know a thing about each other. I don't know where we're meeting, I don't even know your name." John said.

"I know you're an Army doctor. And you've been invalided home from Afghanistan. I know you've got a brother who's worried about you but you won't go to him for help 'cause you don't approve of him, possibly because he's an alcoholic and more likely because he recently walked out on his wife. And I know that your therapist thinks your limp is psychosomatic, quite correctly, I'm afraid. That's enough to be going on with, don't you think?" Sherlock asked then, started to sweep out the door, before turning around and parting with these words and a wink and a click of his tongue, "The name's Sherlock Holmes, and the address is 221B Baker Street. After noon." He called over his shoulder to Mike who replied with a raised hand.

"Yeah, he's always like that." Mike affirmed when John looked over at him.

\---------------------------------- Le Time Skip - 7:00 a.m., 221 Baker Street the next day-------------------------------------

Sherlock pulls up in a taxi, while John waits for him in front of the door. "Ah, Mr. Holmes." John calls out in greeting.

"Sherlock, please." He replies, as he stepped from the taxi to the front door next to John after shaking his hand.

"Well, this is a prime spot. Must be expensive." John remarked, looking around.

"Oh, Mrs. Hudson, the landlady, she's given me a special deal. Owes me a favour. Few years back, her husband got himself sentenced to death in Florida. I was able to help out."

"Sorry, you stopped her husband being executed?"

"Oh, no, I ensured it." Sherlock said, looking back at John and smiling, just as Mrs. Hudson opened the door.

"Sherlock!" Mrs. Hudson said in greeting as she hugged him.

"Mrs. Hudson, Dr. John Watson."

"Hello. Come in." She greeted the doctor, who replied with, "Hello. Thank you."

"Shall we?" Sherlock asked. John agreed and they walked up the stairs with Mrs. Hudson following.

Sherlock sped up the stairs and stopped in front of the door to 221B, turned around to watch John limp up the stairs behind him before opening the door into the flat. He walked in taking off his gloves before shoving them in his pockets as John followed him to walk into the sitting room of the flat.

John turned to survey the rest of the room before stating "Well, this could be very nice. Very nice indeed."

"Yes. Yes, I think so. My thoughts precisely." Sherlock agreed as they moved to stand next to each other backs to the kitchen to look over all of the sitting room.

The boys spoke over each other with Sherlock saying, "So I went ahead and moved straight in." as John said, "Soon as we get all this rubbish cleaned out... oh."

"So this is all..." John started as Sherlock moved to start trying to tidy up.

"Well, obviously I can, erm, straighten things up a bit." Sherlock said grabbing things and moving them around before taking some unopened letters, placing them on the mantel and stabbing them with the knife there.

"That's a skull." John remarked as he pointed at it with his cane.

"Friend of mine. When I say 'friend'..." Sherlock replied.

"What do you think then, Dr. Watson? There's another bedroom upstairs if you'l be needing two bedrooms." Mrs. Hudson asked from in front of the couch, having just come up the stairs.

"Of course, we'll be needing two." John replied.

"Oh, don't worry. There's all sorts 'round here. Mrs. Turner next door's got married ones." The last two words Mrs. Hudson whispered.

John looked over at Sherlock who has already taken off his coat and scarf and hung them up.

"Oh, Sherlock, the mess you've made. And with the girls home." Mrs Hudson as she rounded the corner into the kitchen.

John grunted as he fell into the other chair by the cold fireplace. "Sorry, girls?"

"Sherlock, you didn't tell him? He's got the two sweetest little girls!" Mrs. Hudson exclaimed.

"Yes. Thank you Mrs. Hudson." Sherlock said, as a sleepy little girl walked out of the bedroom.

"Oi! Not so little I'm almost 8!" She exclaimed as she rubbed her eyes. "Hello. My name's Elisabeth. Rosie's still asleep in the bedroom." She said, holding her hand out to shake while pointing back toward beyond the kitchen with her other.

"Hello. I'm Dr. John Watson." He said, shaking her hand.

"Glad to meet you. Good to see who Papa brought home to be our new flatmate. This one's much bigger than your old flat-sit and is already full of stuff so you won't feel so lonely. Your service pistol will be quite helpful on Papa's chases and will be better put to use than your design. Hope you take the flat." Elisabeth said. Then she walked over to the other chair and climbed into it.

"Hmm, okay." Seeing Sherlock open his laptop that's on the desk, John remarked, "I looked you up on the Internet last night."

"Anything interesting?" Sherlock asked.

"Found your website. 'The Science of Deduction.'" John stated.

"What did you think?" Sherlock asked, with a proud little smile on his lips.

John quirked his eyebrow at him in a very 'Really?' sort of look, Sherlock looked hurt and questioning. "You said you could identify a software designer by his tie and an airline pilot by his left thumb?"

"Yes; and I can read your military career in your face and your leg, and your brother’s drinking habits in your mobile phone." Sherlock replied.

"How?" John questioned. Sherlock just looked at him then turned back to the window a little sulkily.

"What about these suicides then, Sherlock? Thought that'd be right up your street. Three exactly the same." Mrs. Hudson commented as she walked out of the kitchen reading a newspaper.

Sherlock looking out the window to the police car that just pulled up said, "Four. There's been a fourth. And there's something different about this one."

"A fourth?" Mrs. Hudson questioned.

Detective Inspector Greg Lestrade ran up the stairs, when he got to the doorway, Sherlock asked him, "Where?"

"Brixton, Lauriston Gardens." Lestrade said, panting for breath.

"What’s new about this one? You wouldn’t have come to get me if there wasn’t something different." Sherlock asked.

"You know how they never leave notes?" Lestrade asked.

"Yeah." Sherlock replied.

"This one did. Will you come?" Lestrade asked.

"Who’s on forensics?" Sherlock asked.

"It’s Anderson." Lestrade replied.

"Anderson won’t work with me." Sherlock grimaced.

"Well, he won’t be your assistant." Lestrade stated.

"I need an assistant." Sherlock complained.

"Will you come?" Lestrade asked.

"Not in a police car. I’ll be right behind." Sherlock sulked.

"Thank you." Lestrade said, bowing out, with a nod to Mrs. Hudson and John.

Hearing Lestrade leave, Sherlock allowed himself a small smile, and as soon as Lestrade had left the front door Sherlock, leapt into the air and clenched his fists triumphantly before twirling around the room happily. "Brilliant! Yes! Ah, four serial suicides, and now a note! Oh, it’s Christmas!" He picked up his scarf and coat and he started to put them on while heading for the kitchen. "Mrs Hudson, I’ll be late. Might need some food."

"I’m your landlady, dear, not your housekeeper." She replied.

"Something cold will do. John, have a cup of tea, make yourself at home. Elisabeth..." Sherlock started before he was interrupted.

"You promised me a case!" Elisabeth said, standing up from her chair.

"For your eighth birthday." Sherlock said.

"You said around my birthday. It's coming up!" Elisabeth exclaimed.

"In 5 months!" Sherlock exclaimed.

Elisabeth glared at him for a moment then bargained, "Case on my birthday, I get to start my business now, I won't go on this case, and you do that thing we talked about." Elisabeth said, referring to their last conversation about dating the flatmate.

"Case on your birthday, you get to start your business now, you won't go on this case, I talk about doing that thing we talked about. Plus, no consultations without me, leave all the legwork to the clients, and you get one case a birthday." Sherlock bargained.

Elisabeth thought a moment then said, "Deal!"

They shook on it then Sherlock called, "Don’t wait up!" as he grabbed a small leather pouch from the kitchen table, opened the kitchen door and disappeared from view. Elisabeth sat back down in Sherlock's chair.

Mrs Hudson turned back to John. "Look at him, dashing about! My husband was just the same." John grimaced. "But you’re more the sitting-down type, I can tell."John looked uncomfortable. "I’ll make you that cuppa. You rest your leg." Mrs. Hudson said, turning toward the door.

"Damn my leg!" John exclaimed. Mrs. Hudson turned back in shock "Sorry, I’m so sorry. I shouldn't have... It’s just sometimes this bloody thing ..." He bashed his leg with his cane.

"I understand, dear; I’ve got a hip." Mrs, Hudson said, as she turned toward the door again.

"Cup of tea’d be lovely, thank you." John said. He picked up the newspaper which Mrs Hudson put down and now he looked at the article reporting Beth Davenport’s apparent suicide. Next to a large photograph of Beth was a smaller one showing the man who just visited the flat and identifying him as D.I. Lestrade.

"Just this once, dear. I’m not your housekeeper." Mrs Hudson said.

"Couple of biscuits too, if you’ve got ’em." John said.

"Not your housekeeper!" Mrs. Hudson called.

Before John can read on, Sherlock’s voice interrupted him and John looked up and saw him standing at the living room door. "You’re a doctor. In fact you’re an Army doctor."

"Yes." John said, getting to his feet and turning toward Sherlock as he came back into the room again.

"Any good?" Sherlock asked.

"Very good." John said, standing there awaiting orders.

"Seen a lot of injuries, then; violent deaths." Sherlock asked, stepping closer.

"Mmm, yes." John said.

"Bit of trouble too, I bet." Sherlock said, now standing in John's personal space.

"Of course, yes. Enough for a lifetime. Far too much." John said quietly with no annoyance at how close Sherlock stood as he looked up at him.

"Wanna see some more?" Sherlock asked.

"Oh God, yes." John replied, fervently.  
Sherlock spun on his heel and lead John out of the room and down the stairs. John called out as he follow him down. "Sorry, Mrs Hudson, I’ll skip the tea. Off out."

"Both of you?" Mrs. Hudson questioned, standing near the bottom of the stairs.

Sherlock had almost reached the front door but now turned and walked back toward her. "Impossible suicides? Four of them? There’s no point sitting at home when there’s finally something fun going on!" He took her by the shoulders and kissed her noisily on the cheek.

"Look at you, all happy. It’s not decent." Mrs. Hudson fussed. She could’t help but smile, though, as he turned away and headed for the front door again.

"Who cares about decent? The game, Mrs Hudson, is on!" Sherlock said, as he walked out onto the street and hailed an approaching black cab. "Taxi!"

The taxi pulled up alongside and he and John get in, then the car drove off again and headed for Brixton. The boys sat in silence for a long time while Sherlock sat with his eyes fixed on his smartphone and John kept stealing nervous glances at him. Finally Sherlock lowered his phone. "Okay, you’ve got questions."

"Yeah, where are we going? John asked.

"Crime scene. Next?"

"Who are you? What do you do?"

"What do you think?"

"I’d say private detective ..." John asked hesitantly.

"But?"

"... but the police don’t go to private detectives.

"I’m a consulting detective. Only one in the world. I invented the job."

"What does that mean?"

"It means when the police are out of their depth, which is always, they consult me."

"The police don’t consult amateurs."

Sherlock threw him a look. "When I met you for the first time yesterday, I said, 'Afghanistan or Iraq?' You looked surprised."

"Yes, how did you know?"

"I didn’t know, I saw. Your haircut, the way you hold yourself, says military. But your conversation as you entered the room, said trained at Bart’s, so Army doctor – obvious. Your face is tanned but no tan above the wrists. You’ve been abroad, but not sunbathing. Your limp’s really bad when you walk but you don’t ask for a chair when you stand, like you’ve forgotten about it, so it’s at least partly psychosomatic. That says the original circumstances of the injury were traumatic. Wounded in action, then. Wounded in action, suntan – Afghanistan or Iraq." Sherlock loudly clicked the ‘k’ sound at the end of the final word.

"You said I had a therapist."

"You’ve got a psychosomatic limp – of course you’ve got a therapist. Then there’s your brother."

"Hmm?"

Sherlock held his hand out. "Your phone." John handed him the phone. He turned it over and looked at it again as he talked. "It’s expensive, e-mail enabled, MP3 player, but you’re looking for a flatshare – you wouldn’t waste money on this. It’s a gift, then. Scratches. Not one, many over time. It’s been in the same pocket as keys and coins. The man sitting next to me wouldn’t treat his one luxury item like this, so it’s had a previous owner. Next bit’s easy. You know it already."  
  
"The engraving." John said.

**Harry Watson**  
**From Clara**  
**xxx**

"Harry Watson: clearly a family member who’s given you his old phone. Not your father, this is a young man’s gadget. Could be a cousin, but you’re a war hero who can’t find a place to live. Unlikely you’ve got an extended family, certainly not one you’re close to, so brother it is. Now, Clara. Who’s Clara? Three kisses says it’s a romantic attachment. The expense of the phone says wife, not girlfriend. She must have given it to him recently – this model’s only six months old. Marriage in trouble then – six months on he’s just given it away. If she’d left him, he would have kept it. People do – sentiment. But no, he wanted rid of it. He left her. He gave the phone to you: that says he wants you to stay in touch. You’re looking for cheap accommodation, but you’re not going to your brother for help: that says you’ve got problems with him. Maybe you liked his wife; maybe you don’t like his drinking."

"How can you possibly know about the drinking?"

Sherlock smiled. "Shot in the dark. Good one, though. Power connection: tiny little scuff marks around the edge of it. Every night he goes to plug it in to charge but his hands are shaking. You never see those marks on a sober man’s phone; never see a drunk’s without them." He handed the phone back. "There you go, you see – you were right."

"I was right? Right about what?"

"The police don’t consult amateurs." He looked out of the side window, biting his lip nervously while he awaited John’s reaction.

"That ... was amazing.

Sherlock looked round, apparently so surprised that he couldn’t even reply for the next four seconds. "Do you think so?"

"Of course it was. It was extraordinary; it was quite extraordinary."

"That’s not what people normally say."

"What do people normally say?"

"‘Piss off’!" Sherlock said, smiling briefly at John, who grinned and turned away to look out of the window as the journey continued.

\----BRIXTON. The cab has arrived at Lauriston Gardens and Sherlock and John get out and walk towards the police tape strung across the road.----


	2. Second part of Pilot

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> From arriving on the crime scene on, with additions and changes from my canon divergence. Also needs knowledge of the episode to understand since I skip bits

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Kudo's and comments appreciated! I know it is a shit summary of the rest of the pilot, but I will be adding more story soon! Also weird spacing since I did it in my phone. And so I can't link where I found the pilot dialogue.

“Did I get anything wrong?" Sherlock asked.

"Harry and me don't get on, never have. Clara and Harry split up three months ago and they're getting a divorce; and Harry is a drinker." John replied.

Sherlock, looking impressed with himself, said "Spot on, then. I didn't expect to be right about everything."

"And Harry's short for Harriet." John added.

Sherlock stopped dead in his tracks. "Harry's your sister.

John continued onward. "Look, what am I doing here?"

"Did I get anything wrong?" Sherlock asked.

"Harry and me don't get on, never have. Clara and Harry split up three months ago and they're getting a divorce; and Harry is a drinker." John replied.

Sherlock, looking impressed with himself, said "Spot on, then. I didn't expect to be right about everything."

"And Harry's short for Harriet." John added.

Sherlock stopped dead in his tracks. "Harry's your sister.

John continued onward. "Look, what exactly am I supposed to be doing here?"

Sherlock, furiously, through gritted teeth, seethed, "Sister!"

"No, seriously, what am I doing here?" John asked.

Sherlock exasperated, started to walk again. "There’s always something." They approached the police tape where they are met by Sergeant Donovan.

They went through first crime scene with Sherlock deducing, John being impressed, and Donovan and Anderson being their idiot selves. Afterward, Sherlock got excited about the dead woman's missing pink suitcase and phone, and left John at the crime scene.

Shortly afterward he had removed his coverall and put his jacket back on, and now walked out onto the street. Looking all around, he can see no sign of Sherlock. 

He walked toward the police tape, still looking around. Donovan, standing at the tape, saw him.

"He’s gone." Donovan said.

"Who, Sherlock Holmes?" John asked.

"Yeah, he just took off. He does that." She replied.

"Is he coming back?"

"Didn’t look like it."

"Right." John looked around the area again thoughtfully, unsure what to do. "Right ... Yes." He turned to Donovan again. "Sorry, where am I?"

"Brixton." Donovan replied.

"Right. Er, d’you know where I could get a cab? It’s just, er ... well ..." John looked down awkwardly at his walking stick. "... my leg."

"Er ..." Donovan stepped over to the tape and lifted it for him. "... try the main road."

John ducked under the tape. "Thanks."

"But you’re not his friend."

John turned back toward her.

"He doesn’t have friends. So who are you?"

"I’m ... I’m nobody. I just met him."

"Okay, bit of advice then: stay away from that guy."

"Why?"

"You know why he’s here? He’s not paid or anything. He likes it. He gets off on it. The weirder the crime, the more he gets off. And you know what? One day just showing up won’t be enough. One day we’ll be standing round a body and Sherlock Holmes’ll be the one that put it there."

"Why would he do that?"

"Because he’s a psychopath. And psychopaths get bored."

Lestrade called from the entrance to the house, "Donovan!"

Donovan turned and called to him, "Coming." She turned back toward John as she walked toward the house. "Stay away from Sherlock Holmes."

John watched her go for a moment, then turned and began to limp off down the road. After this John was kidnapped by Mycroft, read on to learn who he is. They talk, Mycroft deduces John, John gets angry at him and leaves refusing the money he was offered to spy on Sherlock, and he is texted by Sherlock demanding he come to the flat.

At the flat, they talk through the case, or well Sherlock talks at John as he tries to keep up. They go out to eat/stakeout at Angelo’s where they have the super important vague conversation about romance and sexuality. Spotting a dawdling cab they give chase over rooftops before discovering the passenger couldn't be the murderer. After that they run home where they discover the Met tossing the flat under pretense of a drugs raid while they are really looking for the pink suitcase.

The girls with their stuff are safely hidden in Mrs. Hudson’s flat to keep their existence secret so they stay safe for now. During the raid, Sherlock has an epiphany and follows the bad cabbie out of the flat, into his cab, and to the building where the famous three way standoff takes place. John wins when he shoots the bad cabbie in the shoulder, killing him within minutes.

Sherlock is kept in the back of the ambulance with a shock blanket where he starts to make a deduction about the killer before catching sight of John and taking back his words under the pretense of shock. John and Sherlock go off giggling at the crime scene before they are stopped by Mycroft who is introduced. 

Leaving them behind, the boys walk off back to the flat, where the girls are waiting up for them, well, Elizabeth is, Rosie fell asleep soon after they sat down.


	3. End of Pilot and beginning of a new adventure

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Short chapter introducing the next part of the action. If you are confused, I will tell you that this is just post-Pool, though not post-Blind Banker, possibly... Not sure yet, but will have that obvious after this bit about the kidnapping. Hope you enjoy this, and please give me feedback!! Next chapter should be a series of vignettes mostly from Lestrade's perspective of the boys reaction and solving of the case.

"Did you get the bad cabbie?" Elizabeth asked.

"Yes, how did you know who it was?" John asked.

"Who else hunts in a crowd and is someone we trust despite their being a complete stranger?" She replied.

Exactly!" Sherlock exclaimed. "Only thing I don't understand is which pill was it? Which one had the poison in it?"

"You don't know? It's neither. The poison was in the water he served them to swallow the pill! He thought he was clever and talking them into it, but the whole time, they died from the poisoned water." Elizabeth said.

"Oh. Now off to bed. You two were supposed to be asleep by now!" Sherlock exclaimed.

"Fine." Elizabeth grumbled, picking up Rosie and carrying her to the bedroom. "That's all the help I get..."

Sherlock and John sunk into their respective chairs as the adrenaline drained from their bodies. They say their enjoying each other's company for a few moments before raising themselves from their chairs and making their way to their beds as they bid each other a good night.

A few months later, after seeing the girls off to their private school, they got a call from Lestrade that sounded like a 7 at least. At the crime scene, which proved to be a locked room murder, there were the bodies of two girls in their 20's, clothed, one had a knife wound in her abdomen, neither had any other marks, not even defensive. There was a cot in the corner as the only furniture in the room. The door was locked and bolted from in the inside and there was no other possible entrances or exits. Sherlock looked around for a few minutes.

Just as Sherlock is remarking on how blindingly obvious that it was the boyfriend, in the middle of his sentence, he receives a text that makes his blood run cold. "The girls have been kidnapped." Sherlock says to John as he runs out the door with him at his heels.

Lestrade watches as they run out the door. That was odd, he thinks, Sherlock doesn't normally run out during a case, though he had just been remarking how obvious it was the boyfriend, which reminds him to get back to the case at hand.


	4. The kidnapping and what happens next

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> What happens when Sherlock and John's baby girls are kidnapped? Will they rescue them in time? How will the Yard react to human!Sherlock?

Elizabeth and Rosie climb into the car just like the end of any other school day. Today, though, as they start to drive away, Elizabeth notices that they are going the wrong way and says, "Wait, home is the other way." The driver ignores them and just rolls up the screen between the two parts of the car and continues to drive. They arrive and are forced into the basement of an abandoned house, where Rosie and Elizabeth are tied to matching kitchen chairs that are facing each other after being shot with a mild sedative.

\--------------------------Le time skip-----------------------------------

It's been 12 hours and there was no sign of the girls, John walked over to Sherlock who had been staring at the evidence as though willing it to tell him where they are. "Maybe we should ask Mycroft for the CCTV footage?" John asked Sherlock. 

He thought for a moment, then pulled out his phone with no further complaining, "Mycroft; CCTV footage."

"Already working on it, brother. We will find them." Mycroft replied.

"Thank you." Sherlock said abruptly, and hung up as he continued to stare at the papers stuck to the wall.

\------------------------Le time skip------------------------------

Elizabeth looks at her sister and makes the rash decision to cut the ropes with the knife she has hidden in her jeans and run with her sister. She cuts the ropes and makes her way to her sister before the henchman shoots her, grazing her side. She crumples in pain and is snatched up and handcuffed to the radiator. Making her now even farther from her sister, unable to reach her, Elizabeth panics slightly in her worry over her sister.

\---------------------------Le time skip-------------------------------

It's been 18 hours and all the CCTV has said so far is that the car that the girls willingly climbed in was eerily similar to the same car that Mycroft had set up to pick up the girls, and that the car had been headed south, probably either to an empty warehouse or an abandoned house. Those drivers had been fired and suspended. And a new personal driver/Au pair/nanny/bodyguard was being hired to care for them after they were found.

Lestrade had not heard from Sherlock or John since they had run out of the crime scene and was worried since Sherlock usually had texted asking about a case by now. After calling and getting no reply, Lestrade texted, "I have a case for you, want to come by?"

Sherlock sent back, "Busy. Case. -SH."

Still worried, but glad to know that Sherlock wasn't bored, Lestrade resolved to put it out of his mind.

\----------------------------------Le time skip-----------------------

Elizabeth and Rosie have to be shot with the sedative again to keep them quiet. Rosie is still in too much shock as well as having too much trust in her sister to be hysterical, but as Elizabeth feels the hours tick by, becomes hysterical in her worry over her sister being hurt and being unable to physically comfort and protect her.

\--------------------------------------Le time skip-----------------------

It's been 24 hours and Sherlock knew that Sebastian Moran, Moriarty's right hand man was still on the loose and had been the one to kidnap the girls. The girls most likely were fine, since it seemed that they had been taken to hurt Sherlock and were being held by henchmen and not Moran himself. He had managed to narrow it down where they were being held to one location. Mycroft had the Yard back up them up.

Sherlock texted Lestrade, "Need backup for a raid. Is also a rescue mission, so do not go in guns blazing, I repeat, do not go in guns blazing."

Sherlock and John met up with Lestrade, Donovan, Anderson, and a special team for rescue missions. They had on their bullet proof vests and the Yarders had their guns. They charged in, and Sherlock and John headed straight for the basement. The Yarders cleared the rest of the house, and arrested the one guard that stayed upstairs. Sherlock and John charged into the basement and disarmed the two henchmen that were on guard down there, before rushing over to their children as the Yarders all came to the basement to check on them. 

Elizabeth was sobbing, hysterically, as Sherlock picked the handcuffs that tied her to the radiator. Sherlock picked her up, making soothing shushing noises as he held her up to check to make sure that the worst of her injuries were the raw skin on her wrists from the handcuffs and the mild sedative that was already leaving her system. She had been grazed by a bullet from what looked to be a escape attempt. Sherlock continued to make soothing shushing noises as she calmed down now that her Papa had her and that they were safe. "Shush, you're okay. You couldn't have known that the car was not the right one. They were too alike with different drivers, but I'll help you get better at that. And there'll be a new driver just for the two of you to make sure that this never happens again. Shush, Papa has you now and John has Rosie. It's okay, Honeybee. Bumblebee's fine too, see?" Sherlock comforted, with Elizabeth's sobs now quieted down to loud sniffles as she buried her head in his neck. Sherlock looked to John who nodded, confirming his deduction. She lifted her head to see Rosie in John's arms, looking fine, if a little worse for wear, but otherwise unhurt.

\----------------------Le time flashback and P.O.V. skip to John----------------------------

John picked up Rosie, who was quietly crying as she stared up at him with her arms held up to be picked up. He obliged her and made sure to check her over as well. She only had a mild sedative which was also leaving her system, and a slightly reddened skin from the ropes.

As Sherlock and John walked by the Yarders, holding their children, Lestrade managed to pick his chin from the floor long enough to ask, "Hey, I need s-"

Sherlock cut him off as he walked by, and said, "I'll tell you in the morning. They need sleep and me and I'm not leaving them now." 

Donovan and Anderson still were too shocked to do anymore than stare after them as Sherlock was being a good dad, comforting his daughter and checking his other daughter who was in John's safe hands.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Comments and kudos welcome! Sorry for the late update, I started taking summer classes and was unsure on how I wanted to write this. Grammar, and tense changes, and pov changes might happen and I would love if y'all would point them out to me. Unbeta'd and un-brit picked.


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